


From The Eyes of A Sociopath

by Calibri_Light



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Awkward Romance, Can you all guess what the reader is before the big reveal~?, Caretaker John Watson, F/M, God Help These Poor Idiots, Greg Lestrade & Sherlock Holmes Friendship, Reader-Insert, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Has a Heart, Sherlock Holmes Needs a Hug, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Holmes and Experiments, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson Being Idiots, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Show-Off Sherlock Holmes, Slow Burn, Some POV from Sherlock Holmes every now and again, Some chapters will also be based off stories from original Sherlock Holmes books, Somewhere..., Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calibri_Light/pseuds/Calibri_Light
Summary: It's not every day you find yourself being read by another person. Then again, you make sure to keep some time away from others just to get a breath of fresh air and to clear your mind from the overload of information. These two at Baker Street are really something odd...but these cases they go on, as dangerous as they can be, are really not all that bad. You just wished the obnoxious tall one would stop trying to read you like you were one of his many cases! If he wanted to know so much, the least he could do is ask you outright. Was that so hard?For a man like Sherlock Holmes, apparently that would be just too damn easy. Besides, how could he resist such a tempting challenge?
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson & Reader, Sherlock Holmes & Sherlock Holmes' Family, Sherlock Holmes/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	1. Decisions, Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of a short beginning, but I intend to make the chapters longer as time goes on. I hope you all enjoy the story, though~!

At times I wonder if I had made the right decisions in life. From the start, I hardly had any control. Most of that went towards my parents. They made sure I had a good homelife, food in my belly, even proper health and education. That all changed when I reached adulthood. By eighteen I was learning to drive, pay phone bills when I got my own for the first time and looked into colleges that would benefit my future and keep me from growing bored with my line of work all at once. The point of it was to give you a better future, but I always figured why work in a place that made you miserable? Just because you knew how to do it shouldn't mean you should work like a mindless drone.

So after graduating with my degree, I decided to look into my own interests. To make more of my own decisions without anyone controlling it. So far, they led me down the right path; the more responsible one, and I couldn't be happier with how things have turned out. the first step I took in my venture onward was to move. It probably would have been fine if I moved a couple miles away from my family, but feeling bold and incredibly youthful in my decisions, I decided to leave the country instead.

My parents were thoroughly surprised with my choice to move to England for a chance to branch out into the world, but I assured them that I had taken every necessary precaution when it came to moving. Besides, it had been a couple years after graduating from college and I needed a change. It's never wise to just move out of your apartment without some sort of savings or plan under your belt. Still, the long distance was going to be hard. Much as I would cherish the memories of my past, I needed a fresh start. Moving seemed like the right choice.

Now as I stepped off the plane with the rest of the people inside, I look around and feel more and more alone in a sea of business folk and complete strangers either coming home or leaving for their next trip out. Gripping the straps to my backpack tight, I let the familiar feel of it press into my back and suddenly I felt grounded again. I needed to get my luggage and then call a taxi. I needed to meet with this woman soon and look into the apartment before it was too late. Though she sounded sweet and reassuring on the phone before the initial move, I still couldn't press my luck. This was unfamiliar ground, so I would need to tread carefully.

It took an hour for me to get my suitcase and call on a cab. The drive was quiet as I had expected, but after a beat the driver turned on the radio and I let the sound of the news lull me into a sense of comfort. Drives like this were always nice. Looking up, I chanced a glance at the driver and immediately regretted it.

_Tired eyes, soft expression. He means me no harm, just doing another job. Probably wishes he was still in bed, though. He had to get up pretty early just to make money. He's choosing to take all the shorter routes if the GPS is anything to go on. It's rare, but he's actually choosing to do the right thing, though I can tell my the grip he has on the wheel that he's fighting against the temptation to make easy money. God, he's so tired...don't get sleepy..._

A yawn escaped and soon the driver joined in right after me. Forcing my eyes open, I returned to the window and pinched at my arm just to stay awake. Can't let that happen again, though I knew deep down it was all in vain.

We make it to the proper destination and I pay the cab driver the amount necessary and a little extra just so he could get some coffee in him. The day was still young, so he would need it to keep him going. He tried to return it, but I insisted and took my things to leave. I could tell he was smiling just before he drove off. Reaching the steps, I walked right up and rang the doorbell. It was strangely quiet. Either no one was home or the doorbell wasn't working. I tried the knocker on the door instead and I heard footsteps come from inside. The door opened and the woman I had talked to over the phone answered it with a smile. So this was Mrs. Hudson? She did seem nice–actually she was and I didn't need to assume to know that.

"Well hello there, are you Miss (L/n)?" She must have noticed the luggage. Not like I'm making an effort to hide them, but still it was rather impressive.

"Yes, I am. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, ma'am." Offering my free hand to her to shake and a smile, she took it with a polite grin of her own and I felt almost swayed from the lightheadedness that washed over me. This wasn't my first rodeo, but this was far better than dealing with rage.

"Oh my, you're so polite! Most of the others who came around we're not as kind as you've been." Opening the door wide, she welcomed you inside and you stepped in as best as you could. "Just put your luggage inside my flat and you can come and retrieve it once you've looked your new place over." I did as she mentioned and headed up the stairs with her. Other than her place, there was another one just to the right of us. 221B...I could hear chatter coming from inside, but most of it seemed a little too quiet. They must have heard Mrs. Hudson and I from downstairs and didn't want to be too loud. Now this was me assuming.

"This flat belongs to Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Every now and again you'll probably hear a lot of shouting and maybe even these loud pops that sound like gunfire, but don't worry a thing about it! It's all completely innocent." That was...foreboding as hell. And was there ever an innocent form of gunfire? I highly doubted that, but maybe they just had their TV too loud and it wasn't a form of domestic violence. Again, I was just assuming here.

Passing the flat, we finally reached what would be my new home. We stepped in and I was surprised at how simple it looked. Of course, I was going to give it a little more life once all my things arrived, but all in all it wasn't that bad. There was a lot of room to move about, there was even a kitchen area and the view wasn't too bad from the windows.

"I had to do a lot of renovating in here. The floors and walls needed most of the work and had to have plumming and electricity checked, but everything as as good as new up here. Quite a bit was spent fixing up the place," she explained while opening one of the windows. It was nice out, so you hardly minded. "Do you know when you'll be expecting your things, dear?"

"About the end of the week from what I gather. I sent what I could out for a head start, but I still wanted to give the place a quick look for myself. Sort of wanted to get a feel of it for myself." Glancing at one part of the living area, I smiled to myself already knowing just where to put the entertainment stuff. All I had so far was a shelf, a TV, desk and bed. Getting a couch and other such things would come in time. At least this place already had a fridge and microwave inside of it so that would make shopping easier on me.

"I understand completely. Now, rent is at the end of every month, but you knew that from our discussions about the price over emails and phone calls. If you have any concerns, don't be afraid to come down and ask! I'm always happy to help if you need it," she offered up while heading on over to the kitchen. Reaching into a cupboard, she pulled out a single kettle and a jar of tea leaves inside and started to prepare some tea for the both of your. "Why don't I prepare us a cuppa here. I'm sure you've have a long trip on that plane."

"I did...Furthest I've ever been from home." This carpet was very new. Should I bother with a rug? Maybe in the kitchen for when I do the dishes and another for when I step out of the tub. I'm going to need a lot of frames and pictures for these barren walls, though. Maybe shelves and knickknacks. This would be perfect with a little more decorating.

"You're from America, right? You explained that in your calls. What made you want to move all the way over here and not somewhere closer to home?" Looking over at her, she turned her attention to her and read her instantly.

_Genuine curiosity with a hint of mild concern. She's worried about me, my family, my friends. Wonders if I made a rash decision. Reminds me of my mother a bit, but their hearts are in the right place. This isn't too bad, but the worry feels like I have a metal ball sitting in the bottom of my stomach._

"My parents actually asked me the same thing before I left. I just wanted to make a new start for myself after graduating from college a couple years back. I had to save a lot right after just to make this trip even possible. I can only count myself lucky that the company I work for has a branch all the way out here. Figured if I was going to do this, I should make that all the cards dealt to me actually work out in my favor. It would be risky to just move without a plan." She looked impressed with my answer.

"Goodness...so young and still so smart. I think you'll get along great with the boys downstairs." You didn't understand what she meant exactly by that, but hey, nothing wrong with making friends with everyone in this small building. Might as well make a few if this was going to be your new home. And if it wasn't going to be here, then maybe in the company building. The possibilities were endless.  
The kettle came to a boil and once your drinks were prepared to your liking, the two of you chatted away in the kitchen until the clock struck six. At this point, Mrs. Hudson returned to her home and you had followed behind her just to grab your suitcase. Pulling it upstairs, you stopped just in front of your neighbors door again. It was silent this time, but after a moment of staring at the door, you were about to move when you heard it as clear as day.

"Would you stop staring at her through the peephole and just bloody go out and talk to her, already?!" The shout was surprising enough to make me leap further up the steps like a deer on the run, the revelation of knowing I had been stared at the entire time just made me slam the door behind me. Okay, really not the best start, but it was...something.

The rest of the evening, I would find myself folding my clothes to one side of the room and unfolding a sleeping bag out onto the floor. I knew I wasn't going to have my bed for a while, so while this wasn't exactly the perfect sleeping situation I would find myself in, it was still better than nothing. Besides, I still had my pillow and some clothes that would last me a week until the rest came on over. Everything will just come together and I could finally set up and live normally like I wanted. I guess I could go out tomorrow and look into some of the other essentials I need to get before some of my furniture arrives. Food is a must, so I'm going to have to make a big enough list that works on my budget. Next I would need some more missing furniture, but the overly expensive stuff I could save on for later. Should I get a car? Nah, not yet.

Just as I was finishing up brushing my teeth, I heard a knock at the door. Making sure I was at least somewhat presentable for guests, I peeked out the door and was surprised at the too men standing in front of my door. One was shorter than the other with light, almost dirty blond hair. He offered me a smile and held up a hand. The other man at his side kept his arms behind his back and said nothing. I had yet to really give him a once over. This person before me seemed nice, at least. No hostililty, just genuine politeness and curiosity.

"Hello, I'm John Watson. We heard from Mrs. Hudson that we were going to get a new neighbor and the both of us decided to welcome you into the building. It's a pleasure to meet you and if you ever need anything, you're welcome to visit at any time." He genuinely meant that. The other man at his side was still silent.

"Oh! Why thank you. It's nice to meet you too, John. I'm (Full name) and I hope we can all be great friends here." This felt like a scripted thing to say, but I wanted to at least let him know I was being genuine. No point in making enemies here. "And the same goes for you guys too. If you ever need anything, just let me know." Standing there felt so awkward. The silence was actually far worse for this, but after a moment I watched as John nudged his friend and I finally looked up to meet cold, calculating, steel-blue eyes. My mind shut down and I was drawn in from my flat and into...some other place.

 _He's staring so intently. He's looking for something....something about me. Why? What makes me so interesting to him? He's still looking. A huff just left him and he's rolling his shoulders. He thinks he understands, but I don't think he even knows the full picture just yet. I'm hardly anything he would bat an eye over, I can tell from his posture and eyes. Jesus, his eyes are so deep and vast, but there's a hidden part there filled with pain and lost. It's very distant, probably forgotten that even he doesn't realize. He hides it behind so much intelligence. Goodness, he's smart. It's almost terrifying how smart he is, but with all those brains he has no room for feelings. Gets in the way of work, surely._

"I...uh..."

"American," was the only thing I got from the tall, curly haired man at my door. "You've lived a very comfortable life with your parents until you moved out here on your own. You try not to think about it, but the move has terrified you for a long time. Homesickness? No, you're still too excited about the move, why else would you have taken out a pen and some paper to list all the things you plan to do to this place? Bit of grocery shopping is in order if that isn't obvious enough, but you plan to make another list while you're out. Far too much decorating for one day. At least I'll expect some racket tomorrow. However, that still doesn't explain the fear you've felt if the chipped nail polish is anything to go by. You pick at that along with some of the skin at your finger. Not a nervous habit or there would be scarring on your fingers. No, this is fairly recent, but nothing new. Give or take you've been doing this a month or so before the move. Maybe...maybe it's the loneliness? You've not had a lot of friends in your life, have you? A lot of trust issues and pain from those who've wronged you. It's why you eyed us up when you opened the door just enough to see us. Expected, but you looked very closely. Right in the eyes and stared hard. You're looking for something, but you don't want to look closely. What is it you want from US?"

I hadn't been thinking about that fear before, but I was now. I understood clearly what he was talking about and suddenly I was a little girl again, being called a freak by a queen bee and her hive of minions. I couldn't help it, though, this is just who I am. I can't control what I do, I just know these things and they turn out to be true, it's not my fault!

I...don't know if I made the right decisions in life.


	2. Difficult Conundrum

"I cannot believe you did that. Right at the start and already you made such a terrible impression. Honestly, what is wrong with you?" John was beside himself. Sherlock, still sitting on the couch with his hands together in that usual steepled position, did not regard his friend as he ranted about what had happened earlier. The doctor was hardly surprised to be met with silence for a response, so he continued to rant. It helped ease the embarrassment he felt standing there while he watched the new neighbor have an internal freak out over Sherlock's "observation skills".

"All I ask is that you go up to someone, say hello and then walk away without having to point out their deepest, darkest secrets out into the open for all to hear. You should have seen the look on that poor woman's face when you blabbed on and on no matter how much I told you to stop. She was completely beside herself. She's never going to want to talk to either of us again. You know that, don't you?"  
John was actually a little surprised to get a response from the man on the couch. "She'll come around."

"Really? And how do you know this? Oh right, you seem to know everything, Mr. Detective. How could I be so foolish?" Saving his draft for the blog, he turned off his laptop and closed it to finally get a good look at his friend. Still deep in thought and it was hard to tell if it was over the recent case they were in the middle of or if it was because of the girl's reaction from upstairs. To be honest, even he was a little impressed. For one moment she had looked ready to slam the door in both of their faces, but she took a deep breath, remained calm and finally said something to Sherlock that probably put him in this position in the first place.

_"As right as you are about my nervous habit and lack of friends, you did get something wrong...I don't need anything from either of you. Good day, John Watson."_

And just like that, she shut the door and John was the first to return to their floor with a sigh. Sherlock was a little slower to return. He's hardly ever wrong about anything when it comes to people, so this was a curious experience for him. Then again, it's not like this is a first for Sherlock to be stumped by someone. There had been The Lady, which John hopes to never hear about again, and the first time they met when Sherlock hadn't realized John was talking about his sister instead of a man named Harry. People make mistakes and Sherlock is not immune to that, rare as it may be.

"She needs something, I know it...and when she does, she'll come down running just as I expect her to and she'll be begging for answers. Just you wait, John." Yeah, the doctor highly doubted that, but once Sherlock had his mind set on something it was usually difficult to dissuade him.

"Sherlock, I don't even think she knows what we do around here. I'll have to explain that to her once she's a little more settled in and comfortable. Can't imagine how she would feel if I showed up immediately after that shit show performance you made...so how are our leads for the latest victim?" Better to get back to work than to talk about this anymore. It would just make his head hurt arguing with the consulting detective, so it's best to leave it alone for now. Sherlock practically lit up and stood from his thinking position.

"Good of you to ask. I know just where to find our first lead on the killer. Come along, John, the game is on!" He grabbed his trench coat, his scarf and off he went to go and figure out a case not even the police could solve on their own. Just another Monday in John's opinion.

That had been...scary. It's not everyday I get bombarded with that much information and then have some of my own thrown back in my face. He just looked at me and he knew what I was about. This wasn't like my experience, though. No, this was something different. And what did he mean that I needed them? I don't particularly need anything right now except for a few groceries and my furniture. Whatever, it was all probably nothing. Besides, he might have heard some of that stuff from Mrs. Hudson. The both of us talked for months over the phone when it came to this deal, so he had to have known something...right?

The next morning, I got myself ready and headed out to get the things I needed. First was the food for the fridge. I went down to the nearest market, grabbed a cart to collect what I needed and started to go through the aisles. I needed toiletries, food, stuff to prepare that would last me days, bottles of water and some other drinks that I just happened to be intrigued with. Right as I was heading over to the chip aisle (or was it crisps here?), I stopped short when I saw a familiar mop of black curls in the same aisle I was headed into. He had his arms behind his back and he regarded the bags with a look of mild distaste. There seemed to be a new brand they were trying to sell and from what I could gather he was hardly impressed. More disgusted if the sneer was anything to go on.

 _Back straight, shoulders stiff as a board. He doesn't want to be here, but it's his turn to pick up the groceries. I feel anxious, stressed...I don't want to be here, I shouldn't be here. I need to be somewhere else. This isn't important to me, I NEED to be back there!_

Heart racing, I slowly go into the aisle and keep my head down. That was a lot of data...probably too much if this impatience I was feeling was anything to go on. I counted myself lucky when the man didn't look up to see me, but just as I was about to pass by and quickly grab a bag of chips, I ended up bumping into someone else's cart. The yelp that left me was sure to catch his attention now.

"I-I'm so sorry–!"

"Watch where you're going, idiot!" The man grabbed his cart and moved off and now it was just me and Curly all alone in the aisle...and he was staring right at me with a raised brow.

"....Hi?" Curly looked me over again and gave a slow nod of the head in greeting.

"Hello." A long pause seemed to drag on until one of us finally decided to speak.

"Well, I'll just be on my way–"

"You said you didn't need anything from us...are you quite certain of that?" I stopped in my tracks. Probably not the best time to have this conversation, but I knew he wanted to get an answer for his question. He wouldn't stop until he did.

"Yes, I am. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of frozen food in here and I really need to get these checked out before they melt."

"....Sherlock Holmes."

I turned to stare at him. "What?"

"My name. I realize I had forgotten to mention it to you the other day with John, so I'll mention it now. It is Sherlock Holmes."

"Okay...Pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes..." I would have offered up a hand for him to shake, but not even he was making the effort to do the same for me. He kept his arms behind himself and stared at me like I was a specimen or some kind of code he had to crack. I don't know why he was so intrigued with me, all I did was show up to their building to move in and told him he was wrong right to his face. Maybe he prides himself in not being wrong? Who could say at this point.

"John was right about one thing, though. If ever you need any help with anything then it would be best to come down and talk to us, however if it isn't serious than talk with John. He's better suited for idle chit-chat." I didn't know what he meant by that, but I would take his word for it. This Sherlock guy was such an odd person.

"Right...The same still goes for me, I suppose. If you ever need anything, you know where to find me. Anyways, I should head on out. It was nice seeing you again, Mr. Holmes." I begin to walk away again and I'm alone for several more minutes. It's a welcome relief until I realize I have someone walking side by side with me. Sherlock has a bag of crisps in his hand and he's keeping his focus straight as the both of you move to the next aisle you need to get groceries from. "Uh...did you need something else?"

"We both live in the same building, we might as well continue this together," he was completely monotone in his reply, but he made a valid point. Still, I had a bit more groceries to grab and I knew he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Having a companion, be it an strange one, shouldn't be too bad if he was willing to put up with the wait. The rest of the trip was spent with more silence. Every now and again I would glance up at him and realize he had been staring at me, causing me to turn away and continue with my shopping. I figured this was his way of figuring me out without having to leave early. I could feel it deep within my gut. Besides, after noticing his stare, it's hard not to put two and two together. This man was really quite persistent.

We check out with our items and manage to hail a cab. I put my groceries away in the trunk and Sherlock is polite enough to hold the door for me as I get right in. I tell the driver the address and we're off. I could still feel Sherlock staring at me during the drive and I finally reach my breaking point.

"You're going to have to stop staring at some point. It's rude."

"You said I was wrong. I want to understand why you believe that." He just doesn't give up, does he?

"I don't need anything. I have everything I ever need right at my flat...well, I will once the furniture comes in, but I still have everything I ever need. I have a job, food to put on the table now and I am completely comfortable in my life, so why do you think I need anything from either you or John?"

"The way you hold yourself. You're a woman who has gone through life like you were walking on eggshells. I want to know why."

"I could just tell you and save us both the trouble–" He waves a hand and shushes me.

"No! That ruins it, I need to figure this out even if it kills me." I roll my eyes at the man. He really was stubborn.

"Mr. Holmes, you're being ridiculous over nothing, and though I shouldn't feed into this, I'll let it continue for now. However, if you can't figure out what it is that's bothering you for a month, I'll have no choice but to tell you."

He raises a brow. "Is that a deal? It's never smart to make bets with me. Most people end up losing."

"I doubt it'll be the case this time around. So deal?" I offer up a hand and he takes it with a smirk. We both shake hands and a new game has taken place without my knowledge. Sherlock feels like he's in heaven. Two cases in a single day, he must have done something right to have earned it. When the both of you arrive, he actually helps you with your bags and the two of you head up the stairs and into my apartment. While I'm in the middle of putting the groceries away, Sherlock keeps himself busy by taking note of the new adjustments Mrs. Hudson made to the place. Before when he had looked it over, it was just a space where they could put extra boxes for storage. It was still a flat, but it hardly meant anything to anyone. It was bigger than 221c, which was a basement space that now held all the extra storage. This way no one would bother going in after that bomb scare months back. Sherlock did not want anyone sneaking into the building, least of all the madman who shared a frightening intellect much like his own. Still, one could only go so far with hoping and knowing that man, he'll find a way back into their lives like a rash. Sudden and very unpleasant.

"Do you always do this with new people you meet?" He stops momentarily and continues on towards the bathroom. He finds a small bottle of shampoo and conditioner inside the shower and takes a quick whiff. It had been a long while ago since the shower had been used, but the moisture and scent of floral soap is still in the air. Must have showered and left as soon as possible for those groceries. On the sink was a small cosmetic bag, though it wasn't opened. Make-up and other delicates inside, no doubt. Not the type to apply the stuff unless it was absolutely necessary. Parties or work, but if errands were involved, why bother? Too time consuming. He would understand if he ever bothered with the stuff.

"What was that?" he called out the moment he walked back into the living room.

"Make deductions as you do. Is everyone you meet suddenly torn apart with your keen eyesight?" The choice of words seem to put him on the spot, but he collects himself rather quickly.

"Yes." The answer was short and to the point. A little disappointing that he didn't choose to go into detail, but maybe I could remedy that.

"Could you give me an example?"

"An...example?"

"Yes, an example. The building is facing the street and a lot of people pass by it. Once I've put all of this away, I want you to show me how you do it. How you read people like it's nothing." Stepping into the kitchen, he sees that the room has also been cleaned rather well. There's a nice fridge as well and a table. Mrs. Hudson really made sure this place was comfortable for people to live in. Typical act of kindness from her.

"Childs play. Hardly a challenge if you just wanted a good example." He decides to help me put things away, not to be polite but to speed things up. He's intrigued by the prospect of "playing", despite calling my idea childish. Trying to put up a brave face? No, doesn't feel like it. He's trying to pretend he isn't giddy with excitement. He doesn't get a lot of challenges these days. It's his addiction, his drug. Without them, he feels lost. Stagnation is hell on earth, although the thrill of cracking codes and finding the answers to difficult questions, those are what help him get through a single day. Yes, this is what make up this man and damn him if that giddiness isn't getting to me as well.

Groceries put away, I toss aside the wet bags and save the dry ones for later. Sherlock finds it a little odd, but then he sees me head into the bathroom and use one of the bags for the small trashcan I've placed between the sink and toilet. It's then he understands what I've done and heads to the window to take a look at the people outside. Most of them pass by too quickly for him to get a good read on what they do, but then he spots someone on their phone. They're leaning against the building across from theirs and he waits almost impatiently for my return. He brightens up at the sight of me and quickly hides it by looking out the window again. I could swear if he had a tail like a dogs, it would be wagging in joy.

"Okay, time to put your powers to use. Give me that example. Go ahead." Taking a look outside as well, Sherlock points out the man on his phone. He's well dressed for the day, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie, although whoever he's texting seems to be causing him some mild stress. He's sweating bullets, foot's tapping away against the wall. He's been caught in some sort of act and the anxiety is obvious. A closer look and it's obvious by the rumpled clothes that he's just left one abode and he had been on his way home when he got the text from his significant other. It doesn't take much to see that he's been cheating on someone, the man is frantic. My own heart is racing a mile away the longer I look at him. 

_I want to run. Hide. I've been caught and now I need to hide from them, but I can't. This person knows everything about me and will find me in an instant. I'm cornered. I don't like it. I must hide. Hide. HIDE!_

Releasing a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding, Sherlock begins his deduction of the man we had been staring at.

"Young man, about twenty-three of age. Very youthful and very foolish if his attire is proof enough. Though he's dressed for any other day like this, he rushed to get his clothes on. He slept in and now he's running late, and whoever is texting him is letting him know that. He hasn't got a ring on his finger or any indication of having one, so he's dating someone and he's been caught red-handed. No doubt he'll go through hell the moment he gets back home, but that's to be expected."

"He's not going home." Sherlock stops and then watches the man put his phone away and call a cab.

"Of course he is. He has nowhere else to go if he needs to hide somewhere. Their partner will know all of his hangouts, even where his parents and friends live."

"But they don't know of one place." Now I've gotten his full attention.

"And what place is that?"

"Where I've been."

"....The secret lover, of course!" The man mentioned is driven away and the tale is history. Sherlock...is impressed. "How did you know he would go back to his lover's house instead of home?" "Just...a feeling I had. He was way too afraid to face the music, so he put his tail between his legs and ran back to where he came from to figure something out that wouldn't get him beaten up or yelled at immediately the moment he returned home. He thinks it would be for the best, but it's clearly not."

"....What are you?" his question stings, but you turn away and head back into the kitchen.

"I have to say, that was impressive. You really do have a gift, Mr. Holmes." He stared and he stared and I started to grab the kettle to make some tea. I couldn't look at him and he couldn't look away. My word, this is proving to be quite the interesting case indeed.

He had shared tea with her and returned down to the flat to find John still typing away at their most recent case on his blog. They were still in the middle of it, but he had figured to get a head start on the title and first few pages before sending it out. Couldn't really do that without the finale, though. Sherlock was very close, but he had become...distracted.

"I see you both have made up after what happened yesterday," John brought up, his face still hidden behind his screen. "Did you grab the crisps?" Sherlock walks over to the kitchen to put them away after he had removed his scarf and trench coat. Once that was done, he returns to the couch and steeples his fingers as he had done many times before. John finally glances up and notices the look on his friend's face.

"Is something wrong?"

"She's like me." Now he has John's full attention.

"I'm sorry?"

"No, she isn't like me, but she knows things as I do. All she does is look at them and she knows, but she isn't like me. Why is that? What does that make her if she sees, but doesn't see."

"....Are we talking about the same person or another new woman you've met while heading out to the grocery store?"

"(L/n)! No one else but her, John." He raises his hands as if in surrender.

"Alright! Calm down and just take a moment. I'm sure you're just overthinking it all again."

"I think the right amount, I just don't have all the answers. She wouldn't even tell me if I asked, I could tell from the look on her face the moment she pointed out something I missed. She said he had been too afraid to head back home, but how would she have known that? She 'felt' that he would run? How do you feel another person's fear? It doesn't make sense."

"Sherlock..."

"Not now, Watson, I'm in the middle of something." Foot tapping away, Sherlock continues to raid through his mind palace for different examples he's gathered over the years. He's upturned the tables in his maddening hunt and thrown several sheets of paper to the ground from his many files and still nothing turns up in this sort of scenario. Everything is murder and the constant habits people make that they hardly notice anymore. Everyone is the same, but only few are different. He was different...you were different, but why?

After a moment, John finally had enough and came up to hand Sherlock his phone. "Lestrade is calling. Let's finish this case now and you can come back and try to figure out our new neighbor another time, though I would advise against it. We want to make nice with her, not ruin any chance of seeing her again." That manages to catch the detective's attention and he his mind palace is as good as new. As if he hadn't gone through a maddening search to figure out what it is that you've done. Though, he does leave something behind. A single card with your name written on it. He'll need to make a room for you later.

"Right..." Taking up the phone, he hangs up and goes for his coat and scarf again. Murder never stopped around here and neither would he. "Tell Lestrade he won't find us at the apartment and that he'll get his answers when he gets them."

"Ah, and where are we going?"

"Restaurant. I'm feeling a tad bit hungry. Italian sound good to you?" He's already on his way out. John couldn't tell if he was actually hungry or if this was part of the murder case. Knowing Sherlock, anything was possible.

"Uh, sure, I could go for a bite..."

"Good." Sherlock steps out the door and hails a cab for them both. Hopefully this will put him at ease and to stop all this neighbor nonsense. The doctor really wanted to make a good impression with her. No good comes out of all this meddling...perhaps he should speak with her himself. A lot better than Holmes, at least. "Watson, are you just going to stand there or hop in?"

"Alright, alright! Move aside." The car pulls away, but Sherlock chances a quick glance behind himself. Sure enough, a familiar face is watching them leave from their window and quickly hides further into the living room once they realize they've been caught. He smiles and turns back around. The game is on.


	3. When In Doubt, Doubt Some More

Another day had passed and I hadn't heard from either of my neighbors since. They had gone about their day and I was in the middle of my own. Standing in front of the camera, I offer up a polite smile and nearly become blinded by the flash. It all passes by quickly and I step up to the desk to retrieve my card.

"Here's your ID to get into the building, Miss (L/n). Now that we have that out of the way and your records are settled, we'll send you a schedule straight to your E-mail. Just be sure to check it in a day or so and if it still hasn't arrived by the next week, give us a call and we'll make sure to get the matter settled."

"Thank you so much." I shake hands with the woman at her desk and she offers me a smile.

"Of course. Have a nice day." I leave the building once all is said and done and decide to head to the nearest café for some coffee. I step in and wait in line with everyone else, taking out my phone to check the time when I hear a familiar name from somewhere inside. I look around and notice the television. A newscaster was talking about a case of murders that had been going on the week of my move and how the killer had been caught just the other day...and the person who had caught them was none other than the man who lives just downstairs from your home. Sherlock Holmes. Was he a detective?

"Next? Ma'am, are you going to order?" I jump and step up closer to the counter.

"Sorry! Got distracted by the news. Just a tall café mocha with whipped cream for me." The cashier rings up my order and I pay. Waiting on the side for it, I continued to watch the report in interest. This would explain why he was so good at deductions and why he had been so impatient the other day at the grocery store. The man liked to solve cases, but he didn't seem to be a cop. He would have worn the uniform if that were the case. Even just a detective didn't feel right.

Grabbing up my cup of coffee, I head out and café and make my way back to Baker Street. All is quiet when I walk in, that is until I pass by Sherlock and John's flat. I can hear the violin playing from inside, but it's not coming from a radio. This is far too real. One of them must be playing it. I continue on and shut the door behind me, unaware that the violin had stopped right then and there. I decide to go through the E-mails at the dining table for today. My things won't be here until a few more days and I know I won't be going into work until next week, so I have some time to myself until then.

Just as it boots up, I hear a knock at the door. The sigh that leaves me comes deep from within myself. He never gives up. Steeling myself, I head over and open the door, but am taken by surprise when it's not Sherlock who's standing on the other side. Instead, John stands there and gives an awkward wave, offering over a bag of what smells fried and very delicious.

"A peace offering." Ah, now that makes sense. I open the door wider and welcome him inside.

"You can just place that on the table, Mr. Watson."

"It's Doctor, actually, but John is just fine."

"Oh!" I gasp. "You're a doctor?"

"I am, yes. I'm working at a clinic nearby when I'm not here dealing with you know who. Speaking of which, sorry about him. He's got it in his head that you're hiding something. I'm trying to get him to stop." I wave a dismissive hand and head back over to the kitchen to grab the two of us some plates. I managed to grab a few plastic plates from the grocery store before I ended up running into Sherlock. Sort of glad about that. Placing two on the table, I start to look for some forks.

"It's alright. It keeps him entertained and I take it that's better than when he's bored, right?"

John snickers. "More than you could possibly imagine. Did you know he shot at our walls with a pistol because he couldn't find any interesting cases."

"Cases?" He doesn't know that I know, but bringing it up with give me some of my own answers and John is nice enough to provide them. Unlike Sherlock, I have my own way of deducing things.

"Oh...didn't realize he hadn't told you. Yes, Sherlock is a sort of...consulting detective. When the police have trouble solving the more difficult cases, they come to my roommate for help...that or he butts in and takes control of the situation if they try to do things by themselves. He hates it when they do that."

"Consulting detective. Take it he made it up all on his own?"

"Of course. There's no one on Earth like him, so he figured he could use his powers to good use." John ended that sentence too quickly. He's hiding something.

"No one on Earth like him? I would assume his family would be as smart as he is." Setting up the fish and chips on both our plates, John starts to get a little fidgety. Must have struck oil and I was hardly even trying.

"Well, there is his brother, Mycroft. Not sure about his parents, though..." He's still hiding something, but he's choosing not to talk about it. Whatever he's holding back, it brings him stress and...fear.

_Trying not to think about them, but they're hard to ignore. They don't want to be ignored, they want to be seen. Heard. They are a menace. They are dangerous. I fear them. I hate them. I want them DEAD. Leave us alone. JUST DIE ALREADY!_

I gasp and cover my eyes. John is quick and he places a hand on my arm. Worried. I made him worried and I look up, sharing the same expression as his own.

"Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, are you alright?" Now he's confused.

"I'm...okay, but you're the one who looks upset." I look away and take a few breaths.

"Really, everything is okay, John. Why don't we go ahead and eat, yeah? That looks good and I would hate to let it all go to waste." I'm trying to put the questions aside and he knows it. He doesn't argue and instead we eat the fried food in silence. John's starting to understand what Sherlock was talking about. There really was something strange going on here.

"Finally starting to understand my predicament." John had returned to the flat and he shakes his head. Sherlock had been waiting at his chair the entire time. Ever since the girl had returned home, in fact.

"A little. She just reacted as if someone had struck her in the gut. Then when I started to worry about her, she worried about my health. Doesn't make sense." It really didn't, but that was all part of the problem, wasn't it? Why does she react the way she does? She felt fear the other day and all she did was stare at that man who had gotten caught cheating and now she was worried when John was? What did it all mean, what did it...

Suddenly he's on the spot, switching the roles from the other day. He's feeling this man's fear, but why? What's making me feel this way? All I did was look at him and I feel what he feels. What's causing that? And now I'm just eating food with John. He had brought it up as a peace offering and now suddenly you're worried about him? He had been worried first. You looked at him and saw his worry and made it your own. Why? Who does that?

Various words flash through his mind until one of them strikes...but that can't be possible, they don't exist. He tries to dismiss it and think about other possibilities, but it keeps coming back. Over and over and over again, it comes back with a vengeance until he finally moves from his chair and heads over to his computer. John looks over and stands at his side.

"You've figured it out."

"No. Yes–Maybe. I don't know."

John is nearly speechless. "You don't know? You? Sherlock Holmes is uncertain."

"Oh, shut up. I know, but it can't be real. People like these are mere myths. There's no such thing as a...." he shakes his head and what he's searched for pops up for them both to see.

"Empath? You think (Y/n) is an empath?" John reaches over to click on the Google description and suddenly everything is fitting into place. The way you reacted when they first introduced themselves and just now when you both had shared a meal together. But Sherlock was right, there was never any real records of an empath at work. There were such things as people who had empathy, but it was at normal amounts. Hell, even he had it but he didn't consider himself an empath.

"No. This isn't right. They're not real. She's not an empath...probably just believes she is and now it's morphed into this weird circumstance." Sherlock tries to look up more options, but that word just pops up over and over and even his searches result in the same thing. He's half tempted to throw his laptop out the bloody window if he still didn't need it for his cases.

"...Why don't we just ask her? Now that we have this, we could bring it up and see what she has to say." That doesn't make Sherlock happy. One could easily tell with his furrowed brow and flared nostrils. "Sherlock, it's better than nothing."

"I would prefer nothing over this. Empaths are nothing more than science fiction. To be able to feel what another person feels? That's all simple when it comes to empathy."

"And yet you hardly understand it."

"Still doesn't mean that an empath exists! She can't be a bloody empath!" A sudden knock at the door stops us and it's Mrs. Hudson looking rather ticked off.

"You both are being so loud up here, I could barely hear any of my shows. What's got you both so riled up?" She walks in and the two of us separate, but Sherlock makes sure to save the page before logging out. Not because he believes you're an empath, but because it has some valid examples. Perhaps your empathy was more keen than others? That made sense, at least.

"Nothing, Mrs. Hudson. You may leave, now."

"Sherlock–"

"Don't be rude, young man! I only wanted to come up and see what was wrong. Thought you both were being rude to the poor girl upstairs. She's having enough issues settling in, the least you could do is make her feel welcome. Especially you, John. I thought you were better than that." He tries to defend himself, but Mrs. Hudson heads out, but not without a few last words. "Play nice, boys. I don't want to hear anymore shouting!" And that was that. The room was quiet and John finally speaks up again.

"She's right. We need to be nice and you're driving yourself mad over this. Just leave it alone, Sherlock. If not for my sake and yours, than for the girl who's upstairs. Whether or not she is an empath, the least we could do is make things easier for her. She doesn't need us overloading her already frazzled emotions." As much as the detective would argue about how she isn't an empath again, he fights it and gives a slow nod. He'll let it go for now, but that doesn't mean he'll quit. The two of you still had a bet and he plans to win.

They both had come around to meet me after that shouting from earlier. No doubt it had to do with me. They're being obvious...well, Sherlock is being obvious, but John is trying not to stare. He believes, Sherlock doesn't. That's fine, they all come around eventually, not that I'm really trying to get them to believe me. The only ones who did were my parents, but they were hardly proof. At least, not to men like Sherlock Holmes who valued scientific fact and nothing involved with the paranormal or psychic. Still, this hardly felt like either, at least not in my opinion. Empathy was real. I just happened to have so much that I very nearly became the person themselves.

I nearly became John today with how angry he had been with this so called mystery person. John really despised whoever this was, but right now that wasn't important. Right now the two of them had brought up a game of Operation. Not what I was expecting, but Sherlock was actually really into it. Of all the games, this one just happened to be a favorite of his. Hilarious. Still, we all shared a few laughs once I brought out some wine and a few glasses out and then when I showed them my deck of UNO cards, that's when things started to get even more interesting.

John and I tried to work together to ruin Sherlock's day, but in the end he beat us both with a few of his own tricks. I knew he was up to something, but he was working very hard to keep a straight face. He was learning. After a while, the three of us finally kicked back to watch some TV. I could tell Sherlock was hardly interested until I brought up shows that helped him think. The Price is Right and Wheel of Fortune wouldn't work, he was aware of almost everything around him. I chose those real-life drama shows like Maury or Judge Judy. We all spent the night arguing over who was or wasn't the father and whether or not the person on the stand was lying or telling the truth. This was probably the first time I've ever felt anything but stressed or sick from emotional overload. It was nice.

It was somewhere around one when I started to turn off the television. John was knocked out on the floor with the empty bottle of wine in his arms and Sherlock was staring directly at the wall in thought. I was just about to pick up the glasses to place them in the sink when Sherlock spoke up.

"I'm not going to be bothering you with questions. Not for now, at least. Let's give it a week, then we'll continue with the bet."

I smile and put the glasses inside and rinse them out. "Is that what all that shouting was about earlier today?"

"Of course it was, you know that." I turn and he's looking right at me. I don't bother to shy away this time, I challenge him with my continued stare. "I just don't know why you continue to hide it. Pretending to be like everyone else–How are you not driven mad?"

"It's for the best. Being like everyone else keeps me sane. If I was anything more, I would never find a moment of peace."

"Hm. Can't understand. Everyone in the world is so dull."

"All but those who can make a good case for you. Are they really so dull then?" Sherlock is still staring and he huffs through his nose.

"Take it John told you about what I do?"

I shook my head. "Yes, but I actually figured it out after grabbing some coffee on the way back home. Didn't catch the consulting bit, though. A position you made up all on your own? Very bold. Glad to see it's actually working out. Congrats on solving that case, too. It's all over the news." With the dishes done, I return to the living room and sit at his side. We both stare directly at the wall. It's so blank and plain...I despise it.

"...What's it like for you?"

"Hm?"

"Your insight. How does it feel when you read people?"

"You mean is it like what you do?"

He shakes his head. "I know it's nothing what I do. I see the finer details to a person. From how their hair is fashioned to the sparkle or dullness of a wedding band. Every little part of a person tells a story, but no one else can see that. What you do is far different."

"How so?"

"You become them, but you've experienced it for so long you know when to stop before it becomes to real. If you had stared at that man for any longer the other day, you would have gone running too. Hidden away just as he had."

A hush fills the room until I finally reply. "Yes. My heart was racing a mile a minute and I could feel myself breaking out into a cold sweat. I felt cornered and I didn't like it at all. I had to run away or else I would have gotten hurt. I wanted to run so badly, but I had to remember that it's not me. Why would I need to?" Turning to look over, I can see Sherlock biting his lip.

_Fists clenched, teeth grinding, nostrils flared and eyes nearly wild. I could feel my blood boil and my own hands are clenching tightly at my sides. Angry. This isn't right, I am so goddamn angry, but I shouldn't be. This isn't right. It's not right. Not right!_

I grab Sherlock's arm and he jumps, turning that wild gaze at me. I'm glaring at him and it becomes harder to refute what's obviously there by the minute, but he's a man who searches for the facts and this can't be it...but it seems to be true the more he stares at me. Finally realizing what's happening, his face relaxes and he finally settles down.

"...I made you feel my anger."

"Yes. You didn't mean to, I know it, but this is really bothering you. I can tell. Is it so wrong for me to be the way that I am?"

"Yes, because it's not real. It's science fiction."

"But I'm here and feeling everything you feel. You're frantic and want to run back to your room to study up on it and prove yourself right, that it's all fake, but you know deep down that it's not. Why else does it keep popping up into your head?" His eyes widen. "I know I gave you a month, but this isn't healthy, Sherlock."

"...How are you real?"

"How are you? Apparently, we exist for one reason and one reason only, Mr. Holmes." I hadn't realized, but the two of us were close. Probably a little too close. We had only met for a short time and yet it was like we were in perfect sync. Gift or curse, we felt a flare from our abilities. Hard to say who was influencing the other at this point.

I could feel his breath on my lips as he looked deep into my eyes, still so entranced and curious. "And that is?"

"To help." If it hadn't been for the loud snore from John still cuddling up to that bottle, we would have made a massive mistake. Moving a good distance away, I start to get up again. Sherlock clears his throat to compose himself and stands up just as well.

"I should get him and take him back downstairs..."

"Yeah..."

"We'll be having more clients coming around tomorrow anyways and staying up this late won't help either of us. When there's nothing to do, John says I get irritable. He's wrong, but he insists. Visit if you like; he could use the company." He goes to reach for said man and picks him up with ease. I smile, knowing that this was Sherlock's way of inviting me over tomorrow without actually having to say it.

"Sure thing. I'd like to see how the great Sherlock Holmes works~" Opening the door for him, I watch him walk out with his passed out friend. He actually smiles all the way back to his place, but I don't know that. No, I'm far too absorbed with my own thoughts. Still...one could only imagine what that kiss would have been like. Oh well.


End file.
